


The Santa Situation

by FairyPrincessKjar



Category: A Court of Thorns and Roses Series - Sarah J. Maas
Genre: F/M, Feysand fluff, Merry Christmas, Rhys is Santa, feysand, feysand fanfiction
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-27
Updated: 2018-12-27
Packaged: 2019-09-28 09:17:55
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,371
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17180219
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FairyPrincessKjar/pseuds/FairyPrincessKjar
Summary: When Feyre had learned that Mor’s cousin was none other than Rhysand Night, the infamous owner of Velaris Inc., she had practically begged her friend to introduce them.  But would the price she paid end up being too high?





	The Santa Situation

Cursing Mor’s name soundly, Feyre marched up to the dais.  She gritted her teeth, determined to see this all the way through to the end.  Though his face was well hidden, thanks to the Santa beard and hat he wore, Feyre was still able to see the look of surprise that flashed across his features as she perched herself upon his lap.  Suddenly aware of how low cut her dress was, she began to nibble on her bottom lip.

“Well, Merry Christmas darling,” he purred, resting his hands on her hips.  

Feyre narrowed her eyes and snapped, “Do not call me darling.”

“Well, then what should I call you, darling?” he asked, his eyes sparkling with amusement.  

“You’re a real prick, you know that?” she huffed, crossing her arms over her chest.  He threw back his head and barked out a laugh.

“Oh, most definitely,” he chuckled.  He gave her a considering look before asking, “Not that I’m complaining or anything, but I do have to ask… why?”  Feyre heaved a sigh and began toying with a strand of her hair.

“Why am I up here sitting on Santa’s lap?  Basically, because my friend is hellbent on embarrassing me.”

“I’m afraid I don’t follow, darling,” he said, leaning imperceptibly closer to her.  

Shrugging her shoulders, she said, “It’s stupid, really. I asked her to do something for me, and she agreed.”

“But?”

“But the cost of getting her to help me was rather steep,” she said, giving him a pointed look.  

“Let me get this straight.  You asked your friend to help you out with something, which she agreed to do, but only if you came up here and sat on my lap?” he said, a disbelieving look upon his face.

“That pretty much sums it up,” Feyre said, rolling her eyes dramatically.

“I have to give to your friend.  She is definitely creative,” he chuckled, causing his beard to come askew.  

“Well, I think that I have sufficiently embarrassed myself enough for one evening,” Feyre grumbled, adjusting the skirt of her dress. Though she wasn’t known for being the most graceful of people, she somehow managed to extract herself from his lap without falling.  

“It was a pleasure to meet you, darling,” he said, something similar to disappointment flashing across his features.  

“Even under the circumstances, it was nice to meet you too…” Feyre trailed off, realizing she didn’t even know Santa’s real name.

“Rhysand. Rhysand Night,” he said, grinning from ear to ear.  The color drained out of her face as she gaped at him open mouthed.  Shit.

***

Feyre retreated as quickly as the Cauldron damned heels she donned would allow.  Though her arms remained at her sides, her hands squeezed tightly into fists. Her nostrils flared as she took in the sight of Mor, whose shoulders were shaking with suppressed laughter.  Damn her! How could she embarrass her like that?

“I am never fucking forgiving you for this!” she hissed, placing her hands on her hips.

“What’s the problem?  You wanted to meet my cousin, didn’t you?” Mor asked, the mischievous glint in her eye not quite matching the innocent grin that she was giving Feyre.

“Yes, I wanted to meet your cousin, not sit in his lap!” she moaned, pinching the bridge of her nose roughly.

Mor waved a hand dismissively and snorted, “Trust me, I don’t think Rhys minded one bit.”

Feyre thrust a damning finger in her friend’s face and howled, “Don’t you dare laugh about this!  How am I ever going to be taken seriously as an artist, if all I’m known for is being the idiot who sat on the CEO’s lap?”   

When Feyre had learned that Mor’s cousin was none other than Rhysand Night, the infamous owner of Velaris Inc., she had practically begged her friend to introduce them.  Feyre bit her lip roughly, willing herself not to succumb to the tears that threatened to fall.

“Oh, Fey! I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to embarrass you!” Mor said softly as she enveloped Feyre in a bone crushing hug.

“There you are.  I’ve been looking for you.” Feyre’s body went utterly still as the familiar voice sounded from behind her.  Cauldron boil and fry her, she had been hoping to avoid Rhysand for the rest of the evening. More like the rest of her life, if she were being honest with herself.  \

Mor stepped out of her embrace and launched herself at her cousin, nearly knocking him over in her exuberance.  Grimacing slightly, Feyre slowly turned around, not at all prepared to face the consequences of her actions.\

“Merry Christmas, Rhysie.”

“I love you Mor, but next time, if you could not attack me, that’d be great,” he said, patting the top of her head.  Mor squawked indignantly as she swatted his arm away.

“You’ll ruin my hair,” she snarled, running a hand through her impeccable curls.

“I hate to admit it, but it would be an improvement,” he drawled with feigned annoyance.  Mor pursed her lips, sending a vulgar gesture in his direction. Feyre couldn’t help but to snort as she watched Rhysand Night, the most powerful man in Prythian, stick his tongue out at Mor.  Feyre cursed under her breath as his eyes slid from Mor and landed directly on her. A combination of recognition and surprised flashed across his face as he brazenly looked her up and down.

Grinning impishly, Mor said, “This is my friend Feyre.  I believe you two have already met.”

Feyre narrowed her brows and scowled deeply at Mor. Heat crawled along her neck and cheeks, turning them crimson in color.  Seeing that fleeing was no longer an option, Feyre bit her bottom lip roughly. She could have sworn his eyes flickered down to her lips, but it happened too quickly for her to be sure.     

Squaring her shoulders, she took in a deep breath and said, “Hello again.”  

As their eyes met, Feyre felt as though she were being pinned down on the the spot by the intensity of his gaze.  Her fingers itched to grasp a paintbrush, though she knew it would be nearly impossible to capture the exact shade of his unbelievably blue eyes.  Her heart began beating rapidly in her chest. Why was she feeling so unsettled now? She had already made a fool of herself! She tore her gaze from his, needing something, anything. that would give her any semblance of control back.  As if their own volition, her eyes began snaking down his chest. She couldn’t help notice how the dark suit he wore emphasized his muscular physique.

“See something you like?” he purred, a look of wicked delight spreading across his face.  

“No, actually.  I was just thinking about how the Santa costume made you look like less of a prick,” she huffed, crossing her arms over her chest.  Rhys tipped his head back and roared with laughter. The corners of her lips twitched slightly, much to her chagrin.

“I should have known you were behind that, dearest cousin of mine,” he chuckled, making the corners of his eyes crinkle.      

Mor shrugged her shoulders nonchalantly, though her eyes sparkled with utter glee.  

He held out his hand and said, “Feyre darling, allow me to introduce myself properly.  I’m Rhys.”

“I told you not to call me darling,” she ground out, reluctantly placing her hand in his.       

“But where would be the fun in that, Feyre darling?” he smirked, bringing her hand up to his lips, pressing a gentle kiss along her knuckles.  She wrenched her hand from his grasp, raising a brow at him incredulously. She tried, and failed, to ignore the way her skin tingled in the wake of his kiss.  She was in such deep, unending shit.

“Well, I’m going over to say hi to Cass and Az.”

“Mor!” Feyre squawked, staring open mouthed as her traitorous friend began to saunter away.  Mor paused long enough to flash Feyre a shameless grin. Oh, she was going to kill her! Meddlesome busybody!  Ferye gave her a vulgar gesture and swore viciously under her breath.

“You’re welcome!” Mor said in a singsong voice as she pranced away.  

Grinning wolfishly, Rhys said, “Care to join me for a drink, darling?”

**Author's Note:**

> Merry Christmas y'all! I meant to post this yesterday, but alas… life! lol 
> 
> Please let me know what you think! I love getting comments and constructive criticism! Enjoy! ~Rachel 
> 
> Find me on Tumblr- illyrianbeauty


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